


Five Times Crowley Asks Aziraphale to Marry Him, and One Time Aziraphale Asks Crowley

by 2space_lesbo1



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: 5 Times, 5+1 Things, Again, Everything is Beautiful and Soft, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Over Excessive Use of Angel and My Dear, These Boys Make me Soft!, Wings, aziraphale is oblivious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 13:50:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19110970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2space_lesbo1/pseuds/2space_lesbo1
Summary: Read the title ;)





	Five Times Crowley Asks Aziraphale to Marry Him, and One Time Aziraphale Asks Crowley

**Author's Note:**

> my friend wanted me to write this. it was all his idea. and he kinda sorta not really beta read it so that's a change lmaooo 
> 
> this was sooo much fun to write tho omg
> 
> also i ordered the book and it'll be getting here in a few days. can't wait to read it!!!

It started with the fact that Crowley, the Serpent of Eden and the demon to always walk the Earth, was in love with a man. Not just any man, but an angel. A literal angel. And this angel wasn't just any run of the block angel you may find in Heaven, either. It was Aziraphale, Angel of the Eastern Gate and the demon’s best friend. Not that either of them would ever admit back before, but a well known fact they both carry near and dear to their hearts. They have known one another since the beginning of time(for the humans) and have somehow always ran into each other throughout it. 

And Crowley was madly in love with the angel, who was terribly oblivious to this fact. The fact that the demon was not able to utter ever since he'd first seen and spoke to the soft spoken angel. 

But anyway, the whole point of this all is that Crowley loves his angel more than words could describe. So, he's tried showing this love to his angel in the past. By… proposing to him multiple times. Not that his angel ever caught on, but it helped keep Crowley’s blood pressure lower. 

He remembers the first time he'd proposed to Aziraphale was during what was now referred to as the Medieval Times. When there had been castles littering hillsides, knights rode horses in shining armor and Pestilence ran free throughout the lands. 

He had been running around the kingdom of Britain at the time as the “Black Knight”, doing his best to undo King Arthur’s work of bringing peace to land and instead bring chaos and evil. He’d been ransacking villages, killing unwary travellers and beheading the good knights along with his small band of ill seeking humans that were itching for blood and such. Okay, he lied about one point. He hadn’t ever really killed anyone. He left that to his henchmen. He just really didn’t like to take humans’ lives; he found it to be a waste.

But anyway. He hadn’t been expecting a knight in white and silver armor to begin approaching him and his band of henchmen through the fog of the day, and he certainly hadn’t been expecting to find out that the knight approaching was, in fact, his angel. But. Well. There they were. Aziraphale had recognized it was him almost instantaneously, and if Crowley had said that that hadn;t sent a small thrill through him than he would have been lying. He wasn’t sure if it’d been his voice, scent(though he was pretty sure scent wasn’t as important to Aziraphale as it was to Crowley), or the nearly invisible wings that only angels and demons could see. Could have even been all three factors rolled into one. Whatever the reason, Aziraphale had recognized them and he’d called his henchmen off to have a quick conversation with the angel.

Aziraphale had then turned with an annoyed huff, his wings jostling behind him, and stormed off back to the horse he had ridden in on. Crowley watched him go, slightly regretting that their reunion once in a few centuries meeting had been so short when compared to many of their others.

And no, he definitely hadn’t followed his angel back to whatever town he’d been staying at the time. He hadn’t shed his armor and donned a much more comfortable outfit to somehow make their reunion a tad longer. He did not do that.

Okay. He did.

But it wasn’t his fault that he had. It was Aziraphale’s. Yeah. The angel’s for making Crowley loved him so damned much. It was annoying, really…. Not that Crowley would want it any other way. 

He’d once again “bumped” into the angel in one of the village’s pubs, doing his best to act surprised. Aziraphale was now dressed casually in the familiar set of colors the demon was growing accustomed to seeing.

“Ah, angel!” he’d exclaimed, throwing his hands out on either side of himself. His wings had done the same, unconsciously, and knocked into one of the servers. The server had stumbled for a moment, caught himself- but not the drinks he was carrying, every single one of them spilling onto the floor-, and looked about in confusion to try and find what had knocked into him. Crowley would have laughed if Aziraphale hadn’t looked horrified, as if someone had just committed a murder.

“Crawly!” he’d said in a berateful tone. Crowley had muttered a half hearted attempt to correct him on his name. “That was very rude of you.” The angel had waved a hand and the sound of a miracle occurring reached the demon’s ears just as the cups righted themselves, refilling with the drinks, and the man continued on as though nothing had happened.

Crowley scratched at the side of his ear at the beratement, keeping his lips pursed to appear unphased. “Uh, uhm, yeah, sorry about that. Wings. Mind of their own,” he murmured. Aziraphale sighed and shook his head. Crowley grinned despite himself.

“What are you doing here? I thought you were busy being the ‘Black Knight’,” Aziraphale said pointedly, and continued walking, taking a seat in a nearby corner. Crowley had followed him, sprawling against the back of the tiny, wooden chair. 31 AD seats had not been his favorite. So hard, small and uncomfortable. Made sprawling hard.

“Can’t a demon get a drink?” Crowley drawled, holding a hand out. A drink flew into his hand, presumably from the tray of the same man from before. “Everyone has to take a break sometime.” He took a sip out the cup, staring at the angel over the edge, and through his lashes.

Aziraphale sighed and shook his head, but Crowley had seen the affectionate smile on the angel’s lips. “Really, my dear-” Crowley’s heart had stopped at that moment because that was the first time his angel had called him that, and the words were a wonderful sound to his ears, sending a thrill through his entire body. He’d wanted to kiss the angel then and there, but had held himself back. He wasn;t that kind of demon, after all- “you must learn to keep at whatever it is you originally set out to do-”

And then Crowley had interrupted him, “I’ll be able to learn how if you marry me, angel.” He hadn’t been able to stop the words from tumbling out of his mouth, and as soon as they had, he began to greatly regret them. He prepares himself for the worst, for a strong denial.

But the angel merely rolled eyes quite dramatically. “Whatever you say, dear.”

~~

The second time he “proposed” to Aziraphale- more of asked for marriage, really, same thing though- was after he’d caused a “demonic miracle” and Aziraphale had returned from their little coin toss trip. He had appeared tired, his wings a mess from flying for so long. Crowley has almost felt sorry for making the angel going in his place, but he didn't at the same time because he'd won the coin toss and he had to do a demonic miracle of his own to please the angel. 

He'd already made it to where a larger crowd would attend “Hamlet”, and now Crowley was ready to show Aziraphale his work. He'd met his angel on the edge of the town as his angel landed, a bit roughly as his wings nearly gave out on him. Crowley absolutely did not catch his angel as he stumbled, and he most definitely did not help him regain his balance. Aziraphale has just run into him upon landing. Yeah. That's it. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry, my dear!” Aziraphale had exclaimed, nearly breathless at the time. His wings shook as he drew them closer to himself, a few feathers falling free. He had been holding onto Crowley’s arms at the time, but then realized this and quickly released them. Crowley could have sworn the angel’s cheeks had stained a light red. “I didn't see you there.” 

“No problem, really,” Crowley had replied, brushing the apology off easily. “All of that flying must have been hard on your wings, angel.” 

“Oh, yes, it really was,” Aziraphale had said in agreement, a wonderful smile on his lips. Crowley had missed that smile while his angel had been gone. “How have you been?” 

“Oh, you know, the usual,” Crowley responded, and began walking back through the town. He grew delighted when Aziraphale followed him, much like he had before. “An evil act here. A temptation there. Nothing new.” 

Aziraphale gave him an expectant look before saying, “Did… did Hamlet… did you?” 

Crowley gave him a sideways smirk in return. “See for yourself.”

They step into the theater and instantly the loudness of a whole crowd of people speaking at once hits them. Aziraphale’s eyes brighten instantly, and he grins hugely at Crowley. He grabs the demon’s hand and drags him inside, making Crowley stumble for just a second. They come out on the stands- which are filled to the brim- and see none other than “Hamlet” being performed. The angel seems to almost be bursting with happiness. 

“Oh you did do it!” Aziraphale exclaimed, and he looks like he is about to hug Crowley, but then seems to catch himself. Thank goodness he had. Crowley didn't think he would have been able to handle his angel hugging him, then or ever. 

“I said that I would, right?” Crowley said in response with a shrug of his shoulders. “Why would I ever lie to you, angel?” 

Aziraphel continues to grin. But before he could have thanked Crowley, the demon said, “Remember, no thanking. Just marry me, alright?” 

Thankfully, his words were lost in the chatter of the crowd. Aziraphale merely nods before taking a seat in the stands, pulling Crowley down beside him. 

The demon falls silent and merely enjoys sitting with his angel, watching the performance. He stills prefers the funny ones, but he can enjoy this one, too. 

~~

The third time was during what he now knows to be called the French Revolution. He'd just saved the angel from having his head chopped off by a guillotine, and was now following said angel to a restaurant for lunch. 

“Oh you will just adore their crepes, my dear,” Aziraphale was saying, still dressed like the man who had just about sliced his head from his shoulders. “They are really quite delicious.”

“Is that so, angel?” Crowley had asked, not wanting to tell his angel that he didn’t really have any intention of eating. He was just following along, going with what the other man wanted, because, quite frankly, he very much enjoyed the angel’s presence. It was warm and soft and comforting, just like the scent he always carried. Which did sound odd, Crowley was aware, but because he was originally a snake, scent was the most important sense to him. So, he still paid it much attention, and enjoyed the angel’s scent as well as his presence.

“Quite,” Aziraphale had responded, before pausing and gesturing to a large, bustling building before them. He always had a habit of choosing busy and well known restaurants, even now, and this one had been no exception. His angel does have a “higher taste”, as he and the humans call it. “Here we are.”

Crowley did his best to look impressed, and must have done it well enough, because Aziraphale smiles and leads the way inside. As they stepped in, Aziraphale’s clothing changed to something more of a French peasant, but still along the lines of his usual clothing flair. So, it was mostly white with grey and a few pink and gold accents along the fabric.

They took a seat beside a rather large window and Aziraphale ordered them a plate of different flavored crepes, telling Crowley that the more flavors they had, the better experience. The demon hummed in acknowledgment before he fell silent, opting to merely stare at the angel across the table from him.

He could still remember the light filtering through the window, casting a warm haze over the restaurant as the angel sat smiling at nothing in particular. The light had framed his face with a golden glow, causing his eyes to become bluer than Crowley had ever seen them. At this point, he hadn’t been able to do anything but stare at Aziraphale, getting slapped in the face all over again with the love he’d felt for the angel ever since he had met him millennia ago.

He had also been able to just see the outlines of iridescent wings, glimmering in the sun’s warm light. Luckily, from the window they had sat by, there hadn’t been a guillotine right outside. There hadn’t been a group of raging men and women and no one had their head getting chopped off. It was just a small street square with an even smaller fountain in the middle of it of an angel and a demon squirting water back into the pond below them. Crowley would have found it funny or ironic that they had sat by the window with the view of aforementioned fountain had he not been so focused on the real angel sitting in front of him, watching the blonde lashes flutter as the angel blinked, turning his gleaming blue eyes towards his slitted, yellow eyes covered by a pair of tinged glasses(sunglasses hadn’t been invented yet).

“I really must thank you again for helping me out of that spot of trouble back there,” Aziraphale said, breaking Crowley from his near trance like state of staring at him. He quickly blinked, being glad for his glasses in that moment, else the angel would have surely seen him staring at him for god- satan knows how long. “I have heard that being discorporated is rather… painful.”

Crowley had waved a dismissive hand, leaned back in his chair and grunted, “Ah, shut it, angel. I already told you not to thank me.” He’d felt the tips of his wings brush against the tile flooring of the restaurant, all of the scents of the place suddenly hitting him at once. There had been the food, the air blowing in when the door opened, the other scents of the humans surrounding them, and then, of course, the scent of his angel. But he’d already gone over that.

Aziraphale had pressed his lips together in a thin line, a look of bemusement crossing his features. Crowley had found it quite adorable. “But I must, my dear,” he’d said, as though trying to get a rather important point across to the demon. “You saved my life… in a way.”

The demon had rolled his slit eyes. “Well, if you really, really want to make it up to me,” he’d drawled, and smirked. “Why don’t you go ahead and marry me?” He didn’t mean that at all. Nope. Not in the slightest. He absolutely, positively, did not want to seriously marry the utterly adorable angel he was about to eat crepes with because yes, he would eat the crepes to make Aziraphale happy.

The angel had looked across at him with surprise, and Crowley almost took his words back with a small demonic interference, but decided to keep as straight a face as he could and stare at him to see a reaction.

But the crepes were set on the table in this exact moment, and Aziraphale’s face broke out into a grin as he reached out to drag one onto his plate. He’d began to ramble on and on about their flavors, and Crowley had ended up watching and listening, taking a few bites from a few himself. 

Thank satan Aziraphale hadn’t really heard him. Or taken him seriously.

That time, anyway.

~~

The fourth time was about a third of a century later, when he was staying in America. He didn’t stay long, and didn’t really ever want to go back- Americans were crazy even for demons. It was during what was now known as the Old West in the history books, which is highly romanticised by both Americans and Englishmen. Though, Crowley could see why. With the miles and miles of empty land broken only by a single man or a group on the backs of horses, stealing and raiding whatever they pleased. 

It really was a good time for demons in the newly formed country.

So of course Crowley was there, running amok on the backs of horses among a group of halfwitted bandits. So many humans were so stupid, they were easy to coherce into what he wanted even without using any of his demonic intervintion. It really did make things a whole lot easier.

Well, one day, he and his band of thugs were riding along a well ridden trail, which they assumed was taken by people who were well off in life. And, they had been right, because not even a few minutes later a horse drawn wagon rushed past them, kicking dust up into the air. Crowley had seen this and motioned for his band of thugs after it. He spurred his horse forward, having decided to be the distraction to try and make the carriage pull over.

He steered the horse in front of the drawn carriage, skidding to a halt with only a bit of space between them that was quickly closing. The man steering the carriage had panicked and yanked the reigns to the side, which caused the horses to panic in turn, stumbling and making the carriage skidded across the dusty ground. The rest of his band surrounded the carriage where it stopped fully.

Crowley had stopped his own horse and slipped off, his buttocks already sore again. There really must have been a design flaw; they should be much easier to ride. He stepped to the side of the carriage where the door was, letting his thugs drag the driver to the side of the road as he threw the door open.

“Alright, everybody out!” Crowley shouted, waving his hand to better solidify his order. The people began stumbling out, all of their hands held over their hands as they stepped onto the dusty ground. “Don’t any of you lot try any-”

He stopped as soon as a familiar, and confused voice speaks up from behind one of the people he didn’t care for, “Crowley?” It was soft and genuinely surprised, but not displeased. And then Aziraphale stepped out into the open, dressed in a thin, white jacket with a cowboy hat atop his head. The look was actually adorable.

Crowley’s outfit at the time had been similar, but of course with his usual color spectrum of all black. If he wasn’t a demon, he would have already been boiled alive by the millions of layers he was wearing along with the fact that it was all, in fact black, with the burning sun beating down on the Earth mercilessly. Luckily he just enjoyed the heat, having originally been a snake. 

“Angel?” Crowley said, and blinked at him to make sure he was seeing correctly. “What the Heaven are you doing here?” 

Aziraphale had clapped his hands together, seemingly pleased that Crowley had asked. And he appeared as though he was about to answer before Crowley’s thugs held their guns up at him and the people he was with. The demon sniffed and glowered at his thugs. 

“It's alright. I know him. Put the guns down, now,” Crowley said. And no. He didn't add a bit of demonic intervention to his voice just to make sure the thugs actually listened and did put their guns down so that they wouldn't shoot him. He did not do that, at all. 

The angel smiled and began again, “Well, you see, my dear, I was just traveling with President Grant here from his vacation home, back to the White House, and-” 

“Wait wait,” Crowley said, holding a hand up. He pointed at the man dressed in a suit beside Aziraphale. “You're telling me, that that's the US president?” 

The man had huffed, offense clear on his face. “Well, Mr. Fell, do you know this… this man?” he’d asked, turning on the angel. 

Aziraphale had shook his head. “Nope. Not at all,” he'd replied. 

The president had blinked, now clearly confused. “What? But then how-” 

“Okay whatever let them go guys,” Crowley said, once more interrupting. His thugs had looked from one another, confused as well now, but knew better than to disobey him. They returned to their horses and the demon waved a hand telling the president and the other two people with him- presumably his family- back into the carriage. Aziraphale watched with a small smile as he stared at the demon. He seemed about ready to open his mouth to speak again but Crowley had beaten him, “Don’t you dare say thank you.” 

Aziraphale had just continued smiling. He'd adjusted his hat. “Well. I see you've been quite busy,” he'd said pleasantly, as though striking up a normal conversation. As though he hadn't been speaking to an occult being. Probably since he was one as well. 

“Yeah. You too,” Crowley had drawled out. “Nice outfit, by the way. Keep dressing like that and you'll have to marry me.” Satan help him he was stupid. How could he never control his mouth or voice whenever he said something like this? It was honestly ridiculous. 

His angel had merely blushed, the tips of his ears tinging red, just like his cheeks. “Ah. Yes.” He'd cleared his throat and then straightened his shirt out. “Well. It was nice seeing you again, my dear.” 

“Whatever,” Crowley said dismissively. He was always glad the angel never brought any attention to his marriage proposals. They were stupid and Crowley never, ever once meant it. Never. Not at all. “Just get out of here, angel.” 

“Of course, my dear!” Aziraphale said, and then climbed back into the carriage. 

He was going to give Crowley a heart attack one day, the demon was sure of it. 

~~

The fifth time Crowley asks Aziraphale was a night he remembered well. It was the first night he had woken from a century’s long nap to a world at war and his angel in trouble, after all. He's not entirely sure how he'd known right away that Aziraphale was in trouble, but he's glad he was able to tell. 

Waking himself up from a century’s long nap wasn't the easiest thing to do, but the thought of his angel in trouble had been enough to get him moving. 

He'd rushed to a church he'd known his angel was in, able to sense his presence from miles away. He'd always been able to do that, and he was pretty sure Aziraphale could also sense his if paying attention. 

He'd only hesitated for a second before rushing into the church, consecrated ground burning though the soles of his feet into his very being. Not that that mattered. He had then been able to see that his angel was held at gunpoint by a group of idiot Nazi spies. 

Saving Aziraphale hasn't been too difficult, and saving the booms even less difficult. Seeing his angel’s surprised face when he'd handed him the book bag had been worth the entire trip, especially when he had smiled brightly. Crowley had led the way from the now destroyed church, angel in tow. 

“You got a lift home?” he'd asked, glancing over his shoulder at Aziraphale as they both pick their way through the rubble of what had once been the church. He begins walking towards his car, the one he has had for nearly a century now, but had only had for about 12 years at the time. He had already been pretty sure that the angel didn’t have a ride, so he paused at the side of his Bently, staring at Aziraphale over the rim of his glasses. 

Aziraphale hums, and he held the bookback in one hand. He looked at Crowley’s car, lips turning downwards for only a moment before the angel seems to steal himself. He smiled at Crowley once more, and the demon saw some kind of emotion he hadn’t been able to define then, but now knew was the angel’s love. In fact, he now knew that his angel had been staring at him with complete and unhidden “heart eyes”. If he’d know then, he would have melted into a puddle.

“Well, seeing as my ride home was actually an enemy and exploded, I don’t suppose I do,” Azirphrale had answered lightly, jokingly. Crowley had snorted at the angel’s attempt at humor and opened the passenger door for him, mock bowing to allow him in first. Aziraphale had scoffed half heartedly before he stepped into the car, his wings brushing along the back of the seat. Once Crowley had sat down in the seat beside him, Aziraphale had smiled at him once more. “Do you remember the directions, my dear?”

Crowley had nodded quickly, acting offended. “You really don’t think that I don’t remember where my favorite bookshop is?” he shook his head and clicked his tongue. “Shame on you angel, shame on you.”

The car had then roared to life and the demon made it go at full speed. Aziraphale tensed up beside him, just as he always has, and clenched at the seatbelt until his hands had turned a pale white. You really would think his angel would be used to his driving at this point in time, really.

“Have you been up to anything recently?” Aziraphale asked after a moment of silence, probably having calmed himself as he normally did while the demon drove. He had been looking at Crowley’s face, and the demon had looked back at him much to the angel’s displeasure. “Eyes on the road, please, Crowley!”

Crowley grinned mischievously and did return his gaze to the road, just to put his angel at the slightest bit of ease. “Nothing at all really, angel,” he replied, taking a sharp turn as a bomb dropped nearby them. He had been pretty sure that Aziraphale was doing a constant miracle throughout the entire drive, making sure to keep all bombs or explosions from getting near them.”In fact, I just woke up from a really nice nap!”

Aziraphale blinked. “Is that where you’ve been, and why I haven’t seen you?”

The demon nodded. “Yup,” he said, popping the p. He glanced at his angel through the corner of his eye. “And you? What have you been up to?”

“The usual,” Aziraphale said, leaning back in his seat as Crowley turned yet another sharp corner. “Just doing the good deed every now and then.”

And maybe it had been because Crowley hadn’t seen his angel in so long, or if it was because the excitement from the night of the bombs falling around them or because of something in between, but Crowley had smirked and rolled his head to stare at the angel once more. “A good deed would be to marry me, angel,” he’d drawled out.

Crowley instantly took note of the bright red blush that had colored his angel’s cheeks at his words, and he bit down on his tongue because Aziraphale had actually heard him this time. And, he seemed to be highly embarrassed by the words, too, because he was reacting in a completely new way that Crowley had never seen before. It was highly adorable.

Aziraphale quickly cleared his throat and averted his eyes from Crowley, seeming to have forgotten his fear of the demon’s driving in that moment. His wings had fluttered as he said, “You just drove past the shop, my dear.”

Crowley cursed.

~~

The one, and only, time Aziraphale proposes to Crowley is about a month or so after the Armageddon that wasn't. It was on one of the days they were meeting up to see one another again and Aziraphale was excited to speak with his demon that day, because he had what he thought to be two wonderful ideas to tell him. 

One was that he'd bought a small cottage down south for the both of them to get away to. The other was… well, it might be the fact that Aziraphale felt it was time to officially be married. 

Yes, he does remember every time his demon ever “proposed” to him the past 6,000 years. And now, each memory was cherished by the angel. He enjoyed thinking back to when his demon would slip and ask for his hand in marriage and then become flustered by the fact he had done so in the first place. 

He wanted to return the favor. Just… seriously. Unlike Crowley’s proposals had been. He wanted the question to come from his heart, even if he was a tad nervous to ask his demon. 

What if he said no? What if he hadn’t actually truly meant any of the times he'd asked, and was just saying it out of his demonic nature? What if he wanted nothing to do with the angel after everything that has happened? 

Aziraphale shakes himself as all of those what ifs floods his head. He fixes his shirt, shifting on his feet as he continues to wait for his demon to arrive at his bookshop. 

His wings flutter nervously as the sound of his demon’s car zooms up to the front of his shop. He clears his throat and squares his shoulders, almost like he's preparing for battle, and redoubles his grip on the bouquet of flowers he's holding behind his back. Because yes. He’d bought flowers for Crowley. A bunch of hellebores, the demon’s favorite. They are a mix of colors, from dark purples to light pinks, and he's sure that Crowley should like them. 

He takes a breath to try and calm himself as the door slams shut, and his demon’s face comes into sight. Crowley is sauntering up as he always does, hands stuffed in the pockets of his ripped black jeans. Huh. Those were a new pair of pants. And was that a new jacket? Aziraphale quite liked the outfit, especially the gold accents and the golden collar of the jacket and shirt he was wearing. It was rather form fitting and fit his personality nicely. 

Aziraphale shakes himself. Stop observing the demon. That would be weird. Probably. He wasn't sure. 

The door opens and Crowley steps inside and Aziraphale’s breath is taken away just like every time before he’s seen his demon. He just holds so much love for Crowley, it was impossible to put this love into words. Best to not try, then, he thinks, and his hand clutching the bouquet tightens tremendously. Just think about words. 

“Hey, angel,” Crowley said in greeting, tossing the hat he'd just been wearing on the hat rack. Aziraphale’s heart does a small skip at the pet name, the one that Crowley has been calling him for centuries. “What'd you need me over so badly for, hm?” 

Aziraphale swallows heavily as the nervousness hits him all over again. But he forces it down and smiles at his demon, holding the bouquet outwards. He can see Crowley blinks beneath his sunglasses in surprise. “These are for you, my dear,” the angel said softly. 

“Oh, uh, thanks?” Crowley said, and even if he's not saying anything else Aziraphale could tell he liked the flowers. His lips were twitching upwards at the edges as he reached out and took the flowers. The angel could just see his cheeks turning a light red, too. “What ever are they for?” He's taken on a posh accent as sniffs at the flowers. 

“Well,” Aziraphale begins nervously. “I was wanting to ask you to a spot of lunch? As a picnic?” 

Crowley raises his eyebrows. “You finally want to go on that picnic?” he asks, and now he's smirking. “Well why didn't you just say so? I'll get a basket-” 

“I already have everything prepared, dear,” Aziraphale said, before his demon could get ahead of himself for no reason. “Could you just help me carry some of the things?” 

“Oh well yeah sure,” Crowley responded, and takes the checkered blanket the angel holds out to him. Aziraphale himself lifts the picnic basket up and smiles at his demon as he walked past him. “Where shall we go picnicking?” 

“I was thinking Saint James’s Park?” Aziraphale suggested, setting the basket in the back of the bentley. Crowley sets the blanket down beside it and then opens the door for the angel. Aziraphale thanks him and settles himself into the familiar seat. “How about you, my dear?” 

“James Park works for me,” Crowley replies, and revs the car. 

Then they're off, Aziraphale fiddling with the seatbelt the entire ride. He continuously sneaks glances to his demon- who'd set the bouquet of flowers on top of the blanket in the back- beside him, taking in Crowley’s current mood. 

He seems to be quite content at the moment as he steered them through the city. Then again, he was almost always satisfied when he was in the car no matter the circumstance. But he seemed more so than usual with a soft smirk on his face and that light flush of red is still present on his cheeks. 

He leans back in his seat, recalling the past 6,000 years he'd been with the demon. From meeting in the Garden of Eden to eating crepes in France, they're done many different things together. And there had always been a certain feeling that had nestled in his chest during the meetings, but he had never been able to truly put into words what it was until the meeting in London during the Blitz. 

It was love that he'd always felt towards the demon. 

And it was still love that he felt now. 

He wanted to express this love to Crowley in the form of proposal, and perhaps marriage(if his demon was up to it) after Armageddon almost but didn't actually happen. Life was short, even if they were immortal supernatural creatures, and he wanted to spend it even closer with his demon. 

They arrive shortly later to the park, having filled the silence with casual conversation. It was never awkward. Just comfortable silence if it fell over them again. 

Aziraphale steps from the car and plucks the basket from the back seat, heat hammering in his chest as he realized he's getting closer and closer to asking his demon. They walk with another up a tall hill until they find a tree at the top. Crowley throws the blanket out and Aziraphale sets the basket and himself down on one side of the blanket. His demon sprawls out on the other side. 

The angel then unpacks the contents of the basket- just a pitcher of tea(which he miracles hot) and some chocolate(the only food Crowley really likes)- and sets the tea set and chocolate in the center. Crowley quickly picks up a piece of the chocolate and begins nibbling on it as Aziraphale pours the tea into the small, porcelain cups. Each cup is designed with swirling wings and multicolored feathers decorating all of the sides, the inside being a warm golden. 

Aziraphale hands a cup to Crowley, who accepts it. “So why'd you bring me all the way out here, angel?” his demon asked suddenly, and it causes the angel to pause. He can see the large, black wings of his demon lover spread out behind him lazily, the feathers ruffling the grass. They look just like a starless night, or that of a crow’s, and Aziraphale can't help but stare at them for a moment, because he is quite surprised that they are fully visible. They typically aren't, hardly visible to even his eyes. But now, he can see them perfectly, and they nearly distract him from his goal. He'd always found the demon’s wings to be absolutely gorgeous. He's brought back to the matter at hand as his demon continues speaking, “Cause I'm pretty sure you didn't bring me all the way out here just for a cup of tea, right?” 

Aziraphale clears his throat, takes a sip from his cup, and then sets it down on its coaster. He then meets Crowley’s eyes with the warmest smile he could muster. “Well, you see, my dear,” he began. “I have a very important question to ask you.” 

“And what would that be?” his demon inquires. 

“Well, first, could you take your glasses off?” Aziraphale asks, motioning at Crowley’s face. “You always seem to be wearing them, which is rather disappointing.” 

Crowley’s face scrunches up. “How’s it disappointing?”

“Because I love your eyes, my dear,” Aziraphale replied earnestly, and he could see the demon’s blush deepen along his cheeks, all the way up to the tips of his ears. “They're rather beautiful.” 

Crowley falls silent, the blush merely deepening further as he pulls the glasses from his nose. His yellow eyes flash in the light from the sun momentarily as he fixes the slit pupils on the angel sitting across from him. “There. You happy?” he asked, trying to sound out off. But Aziraphale could tell he was just a tad embarrassed. Probably because of the angel’s interest in his eyes. Though what Aziraphale had said about them prior had been true. He loved his demon’s eyes just as much as his wings. The color and how they looked were beautiful to him, and seeing them comforted him. 

Aziraphale clears his throat again, smiling in thanks. “Why thank you,” he said, before straightening his shirt out. “Now. This is a… very important question. Very, very important. And I don't want you to… feel pressured or, put off or-” Oh great. He was rambling and stuttering and Crowley was staring at him in confusion, the emotion clear with his unhidden eyes. But he wasn't interrupting. He was patient, especially for a demon. He clears his throat again. “Oh, I'm being ridiculous.” He shakes himself and then locks eyes with his demon, smiling once more. 

He reaches across the blanket and intertwined his fingers with Crowley’s, taking note of how warm the demon’s palm is. He also takes note of the sharp intake of breath at his touch. 

“Crowley,” he began. “Serpent of Eden. I was just wondering…” He pauses, and he can see Crowley’s anticipation. “Would you marry me?” 

As soon as the question leaves his lips, a silence falls over them. Crowley stares at Aziraphale, his eyes wide with an unreadable emotion and his mouth opening and closing much like that of a fish out of water; as though he was trying to say something but failing to every time. Aziraphale continues to hold his hand, which he feels is now tightening around his. The demon’s wings have gone straight outward along with the rest of his surprise. 

The silence drags on for a few more seconds, in which Aziraphale begins to fear he shouldn't have asked. He bites down on his bottom lip and chews it lightly with his nervousness, but never looks from his demon or releases his hand. 

And then, finally, right before he could retract the statement or miracle the scene to where he'd never asked it, Crowley’s face is fixing itself to something more calm. He's lifting Aziraphale’s hand upwards, and the angel could now spot absolute joy and love reflecting from the serpentine eyes as soft lips press against even softer skin. 

“Oh, I would love to, angel,” Crowley said softly, excitedly, and Aziraphel grins, tears misting over his eyes as he leaps forward, throwing his arms around his demon’s neck. Crowley returns the hug, burrowing his face in the angel’s shoulder and tightly hugging him. Their wings wrap around the both of them, further embracing each other. 

They were truly an ineffable couple.

**Author's Note:**

> aaaaahhhhh i'm soft


End file.
